


Here There Be Monsters

by GunTotingScienceNerd, teh_gelfling



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bodily Fluids, Cunnilingus, Forced Bonding, Forced Relationship, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Monster Rung, Multiple Personalities, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Transfluid as Fuel/Food
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunTotingScienceNerd/pseuds/GunTotingScienceNerd, https://archiveofourown.org/users/teh_gelfling/pseuds/teh_gelfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sparkeater has been dealt with. Turns out it wasn't the only monster aboard the lost light. Trust is built, and Megatron will discover one of the best kept secrets in a psychotherapist's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> schandbringer did a thing on tumblr and it spawned this "monstrosity" ;)
> 
> Permission was given to play with her idea.

CHAPTER 1

_The first rule of interstellar travel: Never stand next to a quantum generator when it's about to flout the laws of physics._

Rung knew this, had witnessed what it could do. Was staring at it right now, something he seemed to be doing more and more of late. His small orange hand reached out, fingers slowly intertwining with the larger claws still left protruding from the engine’s bulkhead. “Was it hard for you? To be left alone so? I wonder about you, you know?” Rung stepped in closer, standing where Rodimus had stood, his posture much more relaxed than the others had been. “I wonder if I could have helped you.” His other hand brought the nearest tentacle to his face where it was nuzzled against his cheek guard. “Or maybe I should just give up and join you.” Though, after all he had endured at the hands of his former Host, and the Functionists, he wasn’t sure even that could kill him. Lost in macabre memories of the past, Rung was unaware that he'd gained an audience.

Despite the size of the ship, Megatron found it very hard to actually be alone with his thoughts. He understood visibility was part of the arrangement for his being here. It gave his ...captors? or rather crew a sense of safety. A way to help foster that safety, as well as to help them grow accustomed to his presence –– and to gain himself a moment’s peace –– he had taken to walking the ship. He could see and be seen, he could learn his surroundings, and he was not sitting in his rooms waiting for someone to attempt retribution. No, walking was a much better use of his time. He’d seen and learned many interesting things in his trips around the ship, and it seemed tonight would be no exception.

“I’ve been alone for so very long. And I’m so _very_ tired of it all.” That voice belonged to Rung. Megatron stood silently waiting, to hear who Rung was speaking with in such an uncharacteristic tone. When no reply was forthcoming he slowly made his way into the engine room. The sight that greeted him was the last thing he was expecting. Resetting his optics did not change it. Rung was standing with his fingers interlaced with the claws protruding from the engine’s outer wall. Speaking to where Megatron presumed the head of the Sparkeater would be, as if he were speaking to a long absent lover over telecom. The monster would dwarf Rung. And from what he had read in the ship’s files, this would be the last person he would expect to see here speaking to the creature, especially so intimately, unless he had read this mech completely wrong. 

From the look Rung was giving Megatron over his shoulder, that was a distinct possibility. “Is there something I can do for you, Captain?” There was none of the demure, reserved speech patterns that Megatron had grown used to hearing in the question. 

“No.”

“You know it’s considered rude to listen in on someone’s private conversation.” Agitation colored Rung’s voice. 

“Yes, but for one to have a conversation there has to be someone for one to converse with. I see no one else around.” Megatron was more than used to verbal banter with sharp-tongued individuals. Especially when he wanted answers they didn’t want to give. “Or am I mistaken?”

Rung’s hand fell away from the large set of claws as he turned to face Megatron fully. “Ships are full of ghosts, Captain. This one even has its very own monster.” Rung huffed a small laugh. “But I’m sure that isn’t what brought you down to the depths of the ship. Tell me, were you looking for something in particular or just wandering to avoid the ghosts of your past?”

“No. No, nothing in particular, just expending some energy before I attempt to rest.” Megatron propped his shoulder against the doorway, hoping to relax the tension building in their conversation. Guarded individuals did not let information slip. “I am, however, discovering in my wanderings that the Lost Light is full of interesting individuals. Tell me, Doctor, is there anything you’d wish to impart that might help me understand my crew better? Any… secret insights you wish to pass along?”

“An individual’s privacy should _always_ be respected Megatron.” Rung seemed to grow in size, as though whipped up for a moment by the tempest of his EM field, before it all settled with the re-adjusting of his glasses. “If you’re asking my professional opinion, the best way to get to know your crew, Captain, is to spend time with them. As you’ve said yourself they are interesting individuals.” The simple, forgettable persona was falling back into place by the time Rung had finished speaking. Whatever chance there had been at finding out any secrets would have to wait for another time.

“Maybe you will do me the favor of making the introductions then? It would be a great help to have a … facilitator of conversation since you know them far better than I.” Megatron gestured for Rung to go ahead of him, and waited.

The first steps away from the engine were taken slowly, footfalls not striking the deck plating with the firmness of a confident stride. The farther they drew away from there the more that changed. While waiting for the lift to arrive Megatron tried to strike up conversation with the still silent psychiatrist. “Do you speak to the monsters often?” Though he couldn’t see Rung’s optics the downward slope of his facial features were more than enough clue that Megatron had misspoken. 

“We are all monsters, Megatron, some of us more than most. And even I need someone to speak with every now and again.” Body posture that had been stiff went tense then closed off. 

“I have never been good at this, you know. Conversations. Words, yes. Orders fine. Carrying on conversations are a much more difficult thing. But then again what does a miner need with words. Move heavy things, break open rocks, keep up the status quo, that… is neither here nor there. Again I am not doing this… right. I have offended you, and that was not my intention. I apologize.” All Megatron received by way of acknowledgment was a curt nod of an orange head. “You once spoke to me of my books. I have read yours as well. Maybe we could discuss our insights on the Cybertronian condition? Or if we are to spend our evening in a place that is ripe for observation might I interest you in sharing some of your non-professional opinions on some of our crew mates and I will share mine with you? As a way to pass the time?” 

Slowly the frame in the lift with his relaxed. “Yes, conversation is a learned art. Learning what to say is as important as learning what _not_ to say.” Rung heaved a sigh before casting a sideways glance at the larger mech. “I would like to ask that you not use the word monster, not around me. In my line of work, that is one of the words that have been used to inflict the most damage on others.”

The doors to the lift opened and the din from Swerve’s bombarded them. Rather than try to speak over it, Megatron gave Rung an answer by way of a nod before he gestured for the smaller mech to take the lead. The doors to the bar opened and a wall of noise assaulted their senses. Rung staggered as his sensors readjusted, the large steady hand on his back making sure he stayed upright. The touch was warm against his ever cold frame. It spread over him like settling into a long awaited oil hot bath. Where to another the touch would have been appreciated or comforting, to Rung it stirred memories of things long ago that he'd rather were forgotten, but such nightmares rarely were.

As his audials adjusted, Rung realized it wasn’t just the normal cacophony one would expect to hear at Swerve’s, but raised voices and a loud crash bought Rung from his private hell into the present chaos. Whirl, who had obviously had one too many of tonight’s special drink, was explaining loudly and with violent demonstrations of his displeasure, by way of breaking any nearby breakable objects, how very wrong it was of Ultra Magnus to ground him from the shooting range. “I mean com’ON, it’s not like the rounds I was firing could pierce the haul…hull…whatever!”

The situation was ugly, his whole night was ugly. He had thought to spend a little time alone, now he was forced into action, and using tactics he had hoped to be long past. Ducking under swinging claws Rung rushed to Whirl’s side before any of the larger mechs could make it to them. He coughed into his hand before he spoke forcefully to the angry ex-Wrecker. “Whirl!” Just enough, he’d hoped just enough to grab Whirl’s attention and break him from his rage. When the tirade paused and began to slow Rung reached up to grab Whirl’s helm and direct his attention away from the room. “Would you like to come and sit with me? I could buy you a drink, and I brought those treats you like? Maybe you could tell me what has happened?” Rung waved off those who thought they were coming to his aid, in his rush to stop the situation from escalating any further he’d used too much. Whirl was calm, which is what everyone wanted, now he just needed to decide in which way did he betray his oaths. A quick glance around the room saw Ultra Magnus and Megatron conferring by the door, both watching him closely, Ten standing next to the bar though his gaze was decidedly elsewhere. Best to sit closer to him then, since he was distracted though Rung knew without a doubt the object of the former legislator’s gaze would not be as easily so. 

A table behind a half wall is where Rung directed Whirl. It kept them visible, while kept Whirl from seeing the mech who’d driven him to this state. “Listen to me Whirl.” He leaned in closely as to not be overhead. “Are you listening? No, don’t speak just nod. Yes? Good. You are going to let me take you back to your berth, where you are going to spend the rest of the night sleeping your overindulgence in Swerve’s latest concoction off. Tomorrow you will still be displeased and put out, but you will not act out against your crew mates. Do you understand?” Another nod. “Good. Now up you get, and let’s get you to your berth.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung gets Whirl to his habsuite. Whirl gets Rung where he wants him. Long dormant coding roars to life, and being followed isn't always such a bad thing. 
> 
> **Mind The Tags**
> 
> Some almost non-con in this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind words about this fic, and thank you to Gelfling my muse.

Chapter 2

Getting Whirl to his room was an exercise in patience. They stumbled, Whirl laughed and leaned heavily on Rung. It was a cycle that was repeated several times until the door closed, leaving the two of them alone. The moment the door closed, its controls flashed with the red locked indicator. Whirl turned on him, and Rung hadn’t felt this trapped in a long while.

A few steps had Rung firmly trapped between the wall and the larger mech who loomed over him. “You always take such good care of everyone else, but do you ever take care of yourself?” Whirl sank, long legs folding on themselves to hold Rung where he stood. “Who takes care of you? Who sees to your needs? I mean you’re ancient, but you ain't dead, so surely you have needs right, Eyebrows?”

Rung put his hands on Whirl’s cockpit in a vain attempt to push the copter back. “My needs are unimportant; I enjoy caring for others. It’s part of who I am.”

Large blue claws encircled his waist, cementing the fact that Rung was not in control here. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Well, how about you let me take care of you. You know, as a thank you for all that hard work you’ve put into keeping me out of jail. Hmmm?”

Rung’s head lolled from the speed at which Whirl moved them to the berth. He hadn’t used his venom on anyone in so long, he hadn’t fed properly in longer, and to produce it so quickly and in the amount that he had given to Whirl was leaving him a bit drained. “Whirl, what are you doing? Your behavior is completely unacceptable.” His mind raced for a way to avoid what was beginning to feel inevitable. “Whirl! Please don’t do this!” He could give Whirl more venom, leaving him further open to suggestion, but that would run the risk of Whirl becoming addicted to him, not something he wanted, definitely not helpful to his patient. He could let this happen and feed on Whirl. Rung had done far worse things for what he needed, but again not helpful for his patient. He had to stop this. Rung had fought so hard to get where he was, and this would ruin everything. “Whirl, you must stop! Please!”

The harder Rung fought, the more he could feel his Host coding creep up from its repressed darkness. It spoke to him of Whirl’s strength and how a Host like that would be capable of protecting him. It spoke to him of Whirl’s loyalty, and how once earned or given even by means of coercion Whirl was fiercely steadfast. “No! I don’t want this! Any of this!” Rung shoved at Whirl hoping against hope that the larger mech could be swayed.

“Com’on, Eyebrows! Ain’t no way you’re as innocent as you pretend to be. If you’d stop fighting me and loosen up, you and me could have a real fun time together. Just let me take care of you.” Rung closed his eyes and clamped his jaw tight. No, he was far from innocent, but he would not compound things by allowing Whirl to tear his control from him. “Don't act like you don’t want this. Just give me a chance and I can change your mind.” Whirl’s panel clicked aside, his spike pressurizing against orange plating that writhed and wiggled in the most delicious ways. “Oh Doc, keep that up. You’re a real animal in the berth aren’t cha?”

Rung froze. His mind racing, wondering if he had slipped, or had Whirl found out? Coding roared to life that he should show Whirl what an animal he could be. “No! Whirl, this is inappropriate! You have to stop!” He pushed at Whirl’s cockpit, then tried desperately to pull apart the large claws that held him. As blue and gold covered his entire field of vision, Rung realized he'd lost this battle. He had caused this, and now he was going to lose. His control slipped as his fight left him. Fangs descended, venom filled his mouth, micro-transformations along his jawline disengaged, his mandible socket loosened, his Host coding roared its triumph at finding one that fit their needs so unlike their last, a Host of his choosing. Rung began to mourn all that he was going to lose even as his darker inner-self rejoiced at his acquiescence.

The door to Whirl's habsuite opened, as Rung gave up his fight. Shouts and orders to "Stop!" came to him through a muffled haze of his inner turmoil. The light that flooded his eyes seemed too bright. Rung curled in on himself, rolling into a fetal position halfway against the wall covering his face with his hands. Whirl was shouting again, screaming about uninvited guests for a party of two. Rung struggled for control forcing his more socially acceptable facade to the surface. When he was able to focus outward again, Rung looked around in shock as Ultra Magnus held Whirl aloft by the back of his collar faring. Megatron’s large frame stood between where he lay and Ultra Magnus reading Whirl his rights while Whirl continued his struggle to break free.

Rung stifled his objection and halted his movements. His coding demanded that he be with his would-be-Host, protect him, keep him safe until their bond cemented. The rational side of his mind warred that now was not the time, and Whirl was not a good Host. It hurt to push millennia of wanting and needing away like throwing off the berth covers in the morning. The pain of doing so lanced through his spark and made itself known in the whimper he allowed to escape.

“Rung?”

“He didn’t hurt me. Nothing untoward happened.” Rung tore his gaze from the still struggling Whirl to the concerned optics of their co-captain. “He would have stopped. There’s no need for this, really.”

Megatron helped the unsteady Rung from the berth. “So then you were a willing party to this, and the objections we overheard were part of some previously discussed role play?” Rung's face flushed with heat, as Ultra Magnus scolded Megatron. “My apologies Rung, I don’t mean to pry into private matters,” reached Rung’s ears as a large dark hand settled on Rung’s shoulder, its thumb pushing up Rung’s chin until their eyes met. “I understand how seriously you take your duty of care, but you know as well as I that sheltering Whirl from the consequences of his actions will not help him in the long run.”

"No." Rung stumbled as his coding shifted harshly. It purred in the back of his mind at its new focus. _He is all the things you have missed. All the things you have been denied. This mech is strong himself, and he has commanded legions. He is protective; he started a revolution to protect those who could not speak for themselves. He has shown that protective instinct time and again for a crew that was not of his choosing, winning their favor. He is safety._ Rung swooned at the abrupt shift. He was losing this battle, quickly. It would be so easy to give in. It would ease an ache deep in his mind and spark, but he had been bound before by misguided coding. They had made him a slave and a weapon, forced him to do things and become something he never wanted. Rung all but collapsed as he forced the coding back into submission. Strong arms held him, and his coding rebelled to the tone of another pained whimper. “No, I can't.”

“Fraggers! Get your hands off my nerd! We were just getting to the goods when you busted open my door. Eyebrows there had just stopped fighting me, and we were about to have some real fun.” Whirl’s struggled began anew. “You can’t have him! He’s mine! Just because you two limp cords can’t get anyone to frag you doesn’t mean you get to bust up in here and take what’s mine!”

As his control slowly came back, Rung overheard Megatron ask Ultra Magnus what had gotten into Whirl. His spark sank as the realization struck him. **He** had gotten into Whirl, his venom, his suggestions, his acceptance of Whirl had all done this to Whirl. It wasn’t fair now that he sit back and allow Whirl to take the fall for him. “Ultra Magnus, Megatron, I appreciate your help, but if I may, Whirl is my patient, and I’d still like to help him.” Before either could protest, he moved around Megatron laying his small hand along Whirl’s helm. “Whirl listen to me.” His glasses came off, his gaze intensified, “I’m sorry if I led you on, it wasn’t my intention. I cannot be yours. **We** cannot **be**. I am not meant for you, and you are not meant for me. You must understand this. Rest now, and we will talk more in your next session.”

A nod and a half-formed “Okay” were all the response Whirl offered before dropping offline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to get your opinion. I can do shorter chapters more often, or longer chapters not as often. What would you prefer? 
> 
> Either way, we've got a long way to go in this aptly titled Monster of a fic. I hope you'll all join me on this ride.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night where things get worse before they get better, where decisions are made and coding makes long absent things come into focus.

Rung slipped his glasses back on before facing the other two mechs in the room. “He must have consumed a great deal of Swerve’s Special Reserve before we arrived.”

“Yes,” though the look Megatron was giving Rung read as the exact opposite. Rung’s proximity to the ex-warlord was making his coding sing. It purred to him from the back of his mind at the many positive attributes Megatron possessed. How compatible they could be, if only Rung would let the coding free, allow it to claim what would be so very good for them. But they had had their choice taken from them before, and it was not something Rung was willing to inflict on another. 

“I’ll be escorting Whirl to the brig. Megatron if you’ll take Rung to my office and wait for me there, we can begin the process of drawing up charges.” Ultra Magnus led them out into the hall, hefting the now-unconscious Whirl.

Rung fought not to reach for Whirl. His long-silenced coding was now running rampant. Whirl had been a willing meal, and could have been groomed to be an excellent Host. If Rung wouldn’t allow the coding to latch on to Megatron, then it would take the willing though less desirable one. Rung clutched his shaking hands to his chest. “No, Ultra Magnus. I don’t think pressing charges will be necessary. If I were to do that, it would undo all the work Whirl and I have put in, not to mention destroy any trust he might have placed in me. I have no doubt this was an isolated incident and that Whirl most likely won’t remember any of this come morning.”

The way Ultra Magnus and Megatron looked at each other left little doubt that a conversation was happening over their personal comms. Rung’s frayed nerves and rising temper made him want to snap at them for their rude behavior. Instead, he cleared his throat before he spoke. “Well, since that’s all settled, I bid you good evening and hope you rest well.” Turning quickly, he strode away. As Rung rounded the corner what had been mere shaking, hands became a fight to stand. _Damn you, Whirl, for making me use that side of myself I never wanted to use again, and damn me for not having better control when I needed it._ Rung wanted to both weep and rage at the situation he’d found himself in; he’d worked so hard to put his past behind him. Now here he was, fighting not to relive it.

“Rung?” The heavy steps of their captain were unmistakable, and the very last thing Rung wanted to hear right now. Rung pushed away from the wall he leaned so heavily on, hoping to hurry down the hall before Megatron made it to him. Hand still braced against the wall, Rung fought to take one step, then another. The third wouldn’t come, and his shoulder contacted the bulkhead painfully as he listed to one side before sliding along it into a heap on the floor. He fought to stand, but his uncooperative body would do little more than tremble. His hand scraped at the wall, looking for purchase as he struggled to get to his knees, and all the while Megatron’s footfalls were coming closer. When he heard them stop, he knew his attempt to get away was at an end.

“Rung!”

“I’m fine. Please, Megatron, just leave me alone.” Rung fought to keep his voice steady and strong but failed.

“You are hardly fine, and being alone is the last thing you need right now.” The quieted rumble of Megatron’s voice lit through his frame. “Let’s get you to your rooms, shall we?”

Rung hated how good it felt to be gathered up in strong arms. He hated how his coding purred at being cared for, as if he mattered to someone, as if he were important. He hated that this night had been so draining, that his control was in tatters and fraying further as his rooms drew closer. _So nice here. Indulge in the possibility. Don't fight, feel,_ his coding whispered. With a shuddering breath, Rung had to agree. Loneliness stabbed at him as hunger and need unfurled deep within. “I’ll be fine, Captain. Please don’t concern yourself with me. I’ll be okay. I always am.” Despite his desire, Rung knew what the proper course of action should be, and searched within himself for any threads that remained of his self-control.

“Yes, I’m sure you will, however, please indulge me in this. Allow me to ensure there are no lingering effects from the…events of the evening.” Megatron dipped Rung allowing him to input his door code.

“But, Captain, this isn’t at all necessary. I…” Rung fought viciously against the instinctual feelings that had bloomed so entirely within him. There were reasons why he’d not allowed himself a Host for so very long.

“I may not be a psychiatrist, but I do have experience in how to cope with the aftermath of trauma,” Megatron pressed.

Once behind his closed door, Rung gave Megatron’s chest a slight push to indicate he wished to be put down. Megatron complied but held him for a moment to ensure Rung would be able to stand. A small smile was given in place of a thank you. Rung made his way to the door in the back of his office leading to his habsuite. “May I offer you a drink? Maybe a warm spiced tea? Or perhaps something a bit stronger?” He turned away to swallow harshly as the venom in his mouth began to flow once more. _It would be so easy to slip a little in his drink. We could easily make him ours. He is willing else he would not be here._ Rung shook his head sharply as he fought down his dark desires. He turned to face Megatron, gripping the counter tight to hide his trembling, a small smile given to the larger mech as he waited for Megatron’s answer.

Megatron had leaned against the door frame, taking in the rooms. “I appreciate your offer of something stronger, but I must decline. As lovely as tea and conversation sounds, I think we both know why I must not.”

Rung gave him another smile, before turning to brew two spiced teas. “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t. I mean, I do owe you a debt of gratitude, and I can hardly be expected to ignore what you have done for me.” Rung carried the tray to the conversation table, setting it down slowly so as not to spill the contents of their drinks. He handed Megatron his larger mug with a small smile. Rung played the part of the perfect host well; a few treats, a few energon sticks, a warmed pot of energon, various flavorings all laid out on the tray should either like to spice their tea. He crossed to the other chair and sat on the edge, hands folded around the cup in his lap as he waited.

They sat for a long time in a comfortable quiet, broken up here and there by small talk. Megatron admitted that it was quite a bit more relaxing and enjoyable now that he wasn’t doing his court-ordered sessions with the doctor. “I think I much prefer the mech behind the title,” Megatron said from behind his mug.

Rung adjusted his glasses at the compliment, though it did nothing to hide his blush. “I find that most do. Do you not as well? Are you not happier to be seen as something other than the titles you've held?” Rung asked quietly. He circled his finger around the rim of his mug and watched from behind his goggles as Megatron’s optics locked on the action. Again, his coding rose up at the temptation, whispering in his mind promises of things that could be if only he’d stop holding back.

“I have found that there are merits to both, but overall, I found it to be lonely and isolating.” Megatron sipped the last of his tea. He stared into the bottom of the cup confoundedly. This night was as pleasant as any he’d had in eons. It was a shame that it was drawing to a close.

From beside the distracted giant Rung spoke, “Would you like another?” A sly smile slipped across Rung’s features at Megatron’s startled jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to draw you from your thoughts.” Rung laid his hand on Megatron’s thigh before pulling it away as if the touch had burned. “Sorry, I… That was very forward of me. I apologize.” Head bowed, Rung set about pouring another cup for Megatron.

“No more so than my carrying you here, the forwardness of which I apologize for. I am aware of how it feels like to be out of sorts and exposed. Neither are very comfortable feelings, and I only thought to spare you that.”

Rung set his goggles on the tea tray, set aside Megatron’s cup, then leaned forward to press a hand against Megatron’s knee. Pushing slightly to make room he came to stand in the space created. His small hand trailed along the overlapping plating on the thick thigh. “You have spared me a great deal tonight. The possibility of being forced to damage a relationship with a patient, the resulting shock afterward, an escape from what were sure to be less than pleasant memories. I owe you more than I will ever be able to repay.” He slowly raised one knee to brace atop Megatron’s upper thigh. A small smile of victory remained hidden by his still lowered head when he felt how warm the plating was to his touch. “I’m unused to having such kindnesses paid to me. I wish to reciprocate, in a way. If you have no objections?” Shifting his weight, and bracing against broad shoulders, Rung pulled his other leg up to rest on Megatron’s other thigh, making sure his shin plating scraped ever so slightly across the modesty plating between Megatron’s open legs.

“Rung?” Megatron cleared his throat, hands coming to rest around the tiny mech now occupying his lap and blatantly invading his personal space.

"If you're objecting, please make sure it's because you really don't want this, not because you think it might be inappropriate," Rung murmured as he leaned in, rising on his knees to bring their faces level. "I assure you, it's perfectly fine." He moved even closer and brushed his lips across Megatron's.

Rung's coding cackled maniacally at him when the larger mech responded. _Hush you!_ he told it and let himself go.


	4. Chapter 4

Just as Rung moved to deepen their kiss, Megatron gripped him tightly, stilling the smaller mech. “Rung, are you sure this is the wisest course of action? I would rather not take advantage of what has occurred.”

Rung couldn’t help the satisfaction that curled in his spark; a warm feeling that bloomed and unfurled throughout him. _This one cares. He is not like the last, but more like the first, only stronger, more capable. We are safe. We can be whole._ “Please, Megatron, I am truly fine. I’d much rather end tonight with positive associations of my day than to dwell on the more unfortunate aspects of my day. And I would much rather it be with you than with someone less caring but maybe more willing. However, if you are unwilling, then…” Rung was trying very hard to win Megatron over. He wanted this, his coding wanted this, and if the warmth from the large gray frame was any indication, Megatron wanted this as well. And yet he hesitated, so Rung let his coding have more rein to draw their chosen companion in. “Please, Megatron. I want to feel your warmth surrounding me. Feel your large frame pressing me down into the berth. I want to feel you within me, moving against me, I want to feel nothing but you until I can’t think of anything more than you and not of the pain or loneliness that awaits me beyond this night.” 

“Rung, are you sure?” Megatron’s hands on his hips were gentle; his face pulled down into a worried frown that matched the concern in his voice and field alike. The care Megatron was taking to be gentle with him was setting his spark to spinning wildly in its casing. 

Rung placed his hand along the side of Megatron’s helm, thumb trailing along his face, pausing briefly at the edge of the still downturned mouth. “Yes, Megatron. I’ve been alone for so very long. I don’t want my most recent associations of being held to be associated with the unpleasantness from earlier.” He suppressed a smirk when Megatron took the bait, massive hands guiding him closer, head tilting to kiss his thumb, then continuing forward to brush his lips lightly against Rung’s own.

Their kisses remained light, teasing, testing out what earned the best response, how best to please a new lover. Megatron was not as forceful as Rung had imagined him to be, much more caring and cautious. Rung gave him a long, slow, tracing lick to his bottom lip. Large black hands cupped his head gently as if he were a fragile gift. Kisses placed along forehead, nose, goggles removed to kiss eyelids. Rung pulled away to give Megatron an appraising look. “I think we would be more comfortable if we moved to the berth. When Megatron seemed at a loss, Rung tugged at his shoulder as he climbed down. He took a few steps away from Megatron, coyly looking over his shoulder to ensure he was being followed. A quick quirk of his finger had the ex-warlord finally moving to follow. 

It took Megatron few steps to catch him, and he scooped Rung up, easily carrying him the last few steps to the berth. He leaned down to capture Rung’s mouth in a slow, gentle kiss as he laid the smaller mech on the berth. A quick adjustment of its controls had the berth of a size to hold them both though the separation required to do so took entirely too long in Rung’s opinion and had him up on his knees to nip and kiss at Megatron’s throat. Megatron returned his attention to the small psychiatrist just as small fingers were working around his clavicle structuring. “Are you always so zealous with your lovers or do you feel the need to rush to cover the unpleasantness? I much prefer to savor the experience of learning someone new.”

“That is hardly the worst thing I've had happen to me. I'm stronger than I look. Give me some credit for survival if nothing else.” Rung’s word were spoken against Megatron’s lips. He licked his own to moisten them before giving the ex-warlord a demanding kiss. “I am not made of glass, and savoring can come after we’ve worked off this tension with our first of many blinding overloads.” Rung hooked his leg around Megatron’s waist and fell backward onto the berth. He was under no illusion that his weight was enough to pull Megatron down to him, but his lover came willingly. 

Megatron’s willingness to bend to his whims had Rung’s plating flaring. _He is so compliant. He desires us as we do him. The connection will form swiftly, easily, deeply. Will heal us all._ The annoying little voice in the back of his mind dissolved into purrs as Megatron eased his mass over him. “I know you asked for this, but I do not enjoy causing my lovers pain. Are you sure this is what you wish?”

“Yes,” Rung reached up fingers caressing the line of Megatron’s jaw. “To me, your weight is a comfort. You block out everything that isn’t here, that isn’t us. I can’t imagine anything better than this feeling.” Rung swallowed back his freely flowing venom a moment before his breath was stolen by Megatron’s searing kiss. “Please,” he managed to speak between kisses. “Please, Megatron. I want to feel you in me. Join with me? Be one with me?” 

Megatron broke their kiss to give Rung searching look, as he sat back on his haunches. Slowly Megatron adjusted his size to a more appropriate fit for Rung. “I will not cause you pain if we are more of a size, and I would much rather enjoy your pleasure than cause you undue pain.”

Rung’s coding sang at such consideration being shown for him. That Megatron could displace his mass to resize was not a secret, but not something offered freely. That Megatron would willingly do so to avoid hurting him made Rung burn white hot with desire. Rung reached a hand out for Megatron, hoping to draw him close again. Instead, Megatron placed a lingering kiss on Rung’s palm before he lowered his body to lay between white thighs. “This isn’t what you asked for,” an open-mouthed kiss was placed along the inside seam of Rung’s thigh. “If you’d rather I not, please tell me so,” another open-mouthed kiss to the other inner seam, hot breath blown into gaps of plating ghosted over the protoform beneath. “But I would very much like to taste you if I may?” 

Rung kept his optics locked on Megatron and nodded his consent. Opening his valve panel, he slipped his fingers through the lubricant already gathered on his swollen lips. Rung spread himself apart to let Megatron get a good look at the inner ring of his valve as it clenched and released. The larger mech between his thighs purred at the blatant invitation. Rung drew his hand away as a wide, flat tongue lapped at his bared valve.

“You are beautiful, but I wonder if I might be allowed to taste all of you?” Megatron traced Rung’s still closed spike panel. Rung fought for breath as a finger slowly slipped inside his valve. It had been so long since he’d willingly given himself to another. He watched breathlessly as Megatron lowered his mouth to his valve once again. Rung fought a full body shudder as Megatron used his flattened tongue to lick from his slowly rocking fingers up to his brightly pulsing node. Rung gasped at the sight of his fluids coating Megatron’s tongue. Ruby optics glittered at the sound. “Please do not silence yourself on my account. I very much like to know my partner is enjoying my attentions.” The rumble of those words, that his partner sought his enjoyment as much as their own, the care being shown to him made his coding sing and shut down all of Rung’s higher brain functions. _Need_ flooded his system and all semblance of control was lost. 

The room fell into darkness as Rung’s voice called out to him. “Please, I must have you. Please don’t make me wait.” The timbre of Rung’s voice sounded off to Megatron; gravelly and with a touch of something he’d not heard from the psychiatrist before. Small hands pulled at him, scratched at him in places, and Rung continued to beg him for more. 

“Patience; we have all night. And I would like to enjoy as much of you as I may before the end.” A whine of desperation carried to him through the darkness.

“Then I would like to give you pleasure as well.” The inner room held no windows to the stars. The blackness would not have been a problem for him when he was a miner, but in this frame, those upgrades were not available. Small hands stroked his frame as Rung moved around him, a touch, a kiss, small scratches here and there, then a hand pushed up against his midsection. Megatron rose and felt Rung ease underneath him. "Open for me?" The request ghosted across his spike panel in heated breath and brushed lips. Rung nuzzled against the heated metal, fingers dancing in teasing lightness over cabling in joints and seams. “Please?”

Megatron’s spike released and was guided to Rung’s purring mouth. Lips closed around the tip, tongue flicking over the slit. Rung traced the ridges and biolights along the length as he slowly began to work Megatron’s spike. It wasn’t large enough at this size to warrant him using the micro-transformation sequence that would unhinge his jaw. Wrapping his hands around those oh so strong thighs, tracing transformation seams and plucking at wire bundles, he bobbed his helm and swallowed around the thick length in his mouth. Once the mech above him was moaning, on the verge of overloading, Rung pulled back until only the tip of the spike remained in his mouth. Rung carefully prodded at the transfluid slit with his tongue, slipping the tip inside to taste and touch and tease. 

The feeling of Rung sliding inside his spike had Megatron losing focus on the delicious sight before him. His fingers slowed their pace inside the smaller mech’s valve. He let Rung’s spike slide from his mouth as he moaned and gasped at the intense pleasure flooding him. The tongue retreated and Rung pulled off just long enough to ask, “Like that, do you?” Then he was back to it, eagerly sucking and licking and occasionally dipping inside the transfluid channel again.

Judging by the response that elicited, Megatron approved. Especially when he overloaded with a shout, hips lifting in an effort to pull away from Rung. Rung snarled, a low vibration that served to draw out Megatron’s overload, and held on tight, refusing to give an inch as the other mech flooded his mouth with copious amounts of fluid. The taste of it on his tongue, the warm slide of it down the back of his intake to settle heavily in his tanks, it was enough to trigger another satisfying overload of his own, and he felt his lubricants trickling down his aft and pooling on the berth covers below him.

Megatron tried once more to pull away, and Rung only allowed it once he’d thoroughly cleaned his spike of every last trace of fluid, sitting up and grinning at the dazed mech as he licked his lips. He was on the verge of saying something when Megatron pulled Rung to lay him out on the berth once more. Megatron kneeled between Rung’s splayed thighs. Rung whined, and squirmed on the damp berth sheets as one hand wrapped around his neglected spike, pumping slowly and twisting just slightly at the tip. Fingers nudged at his valve rim, and he let his legs fall apart as far as they would go, giving Megatron an obscene picture to burn into his brain module for later consumption. The other mech rumbled his approval, testing the stretch and readiness of his valve with two fingers.

“Please, Megatron, don’t tease me!” Rung moaned, arching up into the touch, as the fingers in his valve curled forward and stroked at primed sensor bundles along the front wall of his valve lining.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Rung, I-”

“I will not break! Please!” He whined, not above pathetic, begging optics and pleading to get his way by now. The taste he’d gotten from Megatron’s spike was just that, a taste. He was so hungry, it’d been too long since his coding had free rein, and now it would not be contained.

“Rung-”

He all but hissed, lunging up and rolling them over so he straddled the surprised mech’s hips, rubbing his valve along the underside of Megatron’s spike and moaning wantonly. The head of his spike caught on the inner ring of Rung’s valve, stretching him in the most delicious way, and he wasted no time in sinking down on the thick shaft, the head nudging at the iris to his siphon system and their hips meeting with a muffled clang and a bliss-filled groan.

He leaned forward, balancing his weight on Megatron’s shoulders as he nipped at his lower lip, hips rocking at a frantic pace. Megatron’s field was wiped clean of worry and concern as his EM field flooded Rung’s with an overwhelming tide of bliss and desire. 

Rung leaned back to study the silver mech’s face while he rode Megatron’s spike. From this position, Rung watched the ex-warlord's face as he tried and failed to fight off the impending overload. His siphon system cycled open in anticipation, applying suction that had Megatron’s optics flaring white. Slumping forward, latching onto Megatron’s bared throat with his teeth, Rung followed him over the edge, the feeling of his full tank sloshing was enough to wring an overload out of him.

Rung pulled off with a sigh as he rolled to the side and smiled at Megatron. The mech was staring at the ceiling, venting deeply, as plating twitched and tensed and flared.

“Are you okay?” Rung asked, reaching up to touch the distant mech’s cheek. 

Megatron let his head loll to the side, “Surprised, that’s all. How about you?” Rung allowed a soft smile, rolling over and curling up against the warm frame.

“Better. Much, _much_ better,” he purred a bit smugly as he let himself drift off in the strong embrace of his captain’s arm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after leaves Rung wondering how to recover in every sense of the word.

Rung was warm for once upon waking. It prompted a smile and gentle sigh from him as he pulled the blanket up under his chin. He blinked his optics online and froze in the middle of another stretch. Surely if he didn't move, Megatron wouldn't online and he wouldn't have to deal with... No, no the coding was already purring smugly at him, and pheromones still hung thick in the air. He eased himself out of the berth, grimacing at the drying, gummy mess between his legs, and hurried into his washrack.

What in the name of Primus had possessed him to let go that much last night? He knew the answer, though. After Whirl, and his coding rearing its figurative head, of course, it would have influenced him more than he should have let it. If only Megatron hadn’t come after him. It would have been harder to get to his quarters, certainly, but he’d have had time to wrestle his coding back to dormancy. Now, it was running full-tilt, and its interest was centered squarely on the large mech still in his berth.

And what to do about that? How could he get Megatron to leave quickly without making it seem like he wanted him gone? Rung could hardly force the mech out if Megatron decided he didn’t want to go though Rung got the feeling that Megatron would do anything he asked if it was within his power. The problem was that Rung genuinely enjoyed the younger mech’s company and didn’t want any of this to jeopardize their relationship. And so Rung didn’t want to ask him to leave.

But how long would Megatron sleep? And what would he expect when he did wake? Rung adjusted the controls in the washrack. Steam was rolling before he stepped in, the hotter, the better. Rung couldn’t believe the corner he’d backed himself into; this was not at all how he’d thought last night would go. Rung had gone down to the engines seeking some space, a quiet nook to face his demons, and had been off kilter since Megatron had walked in on him. A butterfly flapped its wings and the world crumbled. He should have never agreed to anything that had happened. Now here he stood, scrubbing his plating raw, lamenting over things that could not be changed, hoping to find a way to salvage anything of this situation. 

Large arms coiled around him and a deep vibration from an industrial engine purred in his audials. “Good morning,” The deep timbre of Megatron’s voice pulled him from his downward-spiraling thoughts. “I’ll wash your back; you wash mine?” Soft lips grazed his helm flares as Megatron reached for the sponge. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?” It was an out, one that would allow him to get away without any lasting hurts. A way to avoid any further contact before he lost any last chance to rein in this coding. Rung frantically checked his schedule for the day and was only mildly disappointed that his first appointment was three hours from now. He sighed and said, “I have some time before I have to be anywhere.”

“Mm, good. Here, tip your head back.” Large hands that were still so gentle lifted at Rung’s chin until his head rested back against Megatron’s chest. Red optics held teal ones upside down, then Megatron lowered his head enough that Rung was sure he was going to be kissed passionately, but there was a little, gentle kiss on his nose and then Megatron was retreating.

“I wanted to thank you for last night. It’s been some time since I’ve been able to let go, and you make it so easy.” There was a smile in his voice as he spoke and the sponge moved across Rung’s plating in smooth, easy motions. It worked into each seam, stroking effortlessly, removing all trace of grit or grime. Rung found himself relaxing more and more under Megatron’s ministrations, the combination of hot solvent and strong but gentle hands on his frame creating a blissful state in him.

The sponge swiped over his aft, and he started. The rumble of Megatron’s voice calmed him back down, telling him that he was just cleaning. His legs were next; then he found himself facing the ex-warlord.

One black hand cupped the side of his face. “May I?”

He was going to kiss him again; Rung just knew it. “Oh, um, yes. That would be acceptable,” he heard himself saying. He certainly wanted Megatron, but he wasn’t entirely certain that he was truthfully wanted in return. The pheromones he’d given off last night still hung heavily in the air, so there was no telling if this was Megatron talking of his free will or not.

Rung waited, eyes closed, lips parted, but no kiss came. Instead, the sponge moved over his front, taking great care around the glass over his spark casing. His arms were washed down with the utmost care and attention paid to every detail, then the same with the front of his legs. Hips were next, then Megatron looked back up at him and offered the sponge so he could clean his own array if he wished.

Rung shook his head slightly, indicating that he wanted Megatron to do this, also. He leaned against the wall, relishing the grounding sensation of the cool tile against his back with the heat of the solvent at his front. The cleaning had his coding practically dancing for joy that Megatron was indeed the right choice for their Host. There was a slow burn in his interface array and the first touch of the sponge to his spike housing jumped it up just a bit.

Megatron was even more meticulous in the cleaning of his array than any other part of him. Every stroke of the sponge ramped Rung’s arousal up further until he was nearly panting with repressed need. The tile at his back was no longer a ground for him, now being nearly the same temperature as his frame. 

One last swipe of the sponge and Megatron rinsed it out and set it aside. “Are you well?” he asked, noticing Rung’s flushed countenance. Rung jumped for the larger mech and was caught easily. Megatron lifted him up and cradling him against own heated frame. 

“No, I’m not well. I’m not at all well. I am burning, for you.” Small orange hands guided a large silver helm to his. Rung clutched and pulled a Megatron as desire and want burned up his field. A large black hand ghosted between his legs and couldn’t send the command to open his panel fast enough. “Please don’t make me wait. Please, Megatron, I want you, and I can feel how much you want me. Take what you want from me.”

There was a moment where Megatron searched Rung’s face, his expression not one that Rung can read, his field blank, and Rung worried that Megatron somehow knew he was manipulated, that at any moment he was going to be discovered and life as he knew it would come to a screeching end. That the shadows of the past would find him and he’d once again lose everything. 

Megatron shifted his weight and Rung’s spark dropped. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Megatron’s gaze. His coding fired into defensive mode. Then strong arms gripped him tighter, as cooled tile hit his back, and Megatron’s heavy frame pushed against his slighter one. “What is it about me that entices you so?” Megatron’s large hand rubs Rung’s valve lips, cupping and patting alternatively. “You’re so open and trusting. How is it you don’t fear me as the others do?”

“I have no reason to; you won’t hurt me. You never would.” Rung’s words were spoken against audials between the pants and moans that threatened to steal his speech.

One finger dipped into Rung’s clenching valve as the others rubbed puffy lips. “You give me too much credit. I am not so kind as you would believe. I have hurt others, hurt lovers.”

Rung rocked in time to Megatron’s curling finger, encouraging without speech for more of what he and his coding now agreed that he needed. He pushed Megatron’s head away even, and he pulled him closer with orange legs around an almost too large waist. Tiny fingers soothed wear lines under crimson eyes. “That may be true, but it is in the past. And I am far from an innocent myself. If your desires slip more towards the tempestuous side of your nature, then let me follow you into that storm.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun is had, things don't go as planned, and coding takes matters into its own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gelfling here with this update. Hope y'all like it.

Megatron lifted Rung into a scorching kiss. His tongue thrust into Rung’s mouth in imitation of another act that both knew was coming. Rung moaned into the kiss; a desperate noise as his hands held Megatron close.

The grey mech pulled away, only to swoop back in and attack the glass over his lover's spark. Rung gasped at the strength of the sensation. Megatron rumbled a chuckle, drawing a squeak of pleasure as the vibrations reverberated through the glass.

“Megatron, please!” Rung squirmed restlessly in his grasp, rubbing his thighs together.

Another chuckle as he observed his lover. “Do you need something, Rung?”

A chuff of air through wide-open vents. “Your spike. In me. Now,” he demanded, and Megatron couldn't deny him.

His panel opened, freeing his pent-up spike. He set Rung down and began the transformation to reduce his size.

“No. I want all of you. At your proper size.”

“But I'll--”

“You won't hurt me. Please, Megatron. I want this. I meant what I said about your tempestuous nature, and I would have it. I won't break.”

“If you're sure,” he said dubiously.

“Absolutely,” was the response.

He again lifted Rung, but this time set him just over his spike, letting the smaller mech feel him. Rung murmured encouragement to him and he began to rock his hips, pushing slowly into his lover.

Rung's valve opened to him far faster than he’d expected. He was very obviously enjoying himself, and Megatron realised he himself was enjoying the freedom to just be. He moved faster, in and out of his lover, rolling his hips, pulling back slowly and snapping his hips forward.

Rung cried out his overload, valve clenching around Megatron’s girth. There was a slight suction on his spike that he paid no mind to other than to note that it added to the pleasure he was experiencing. He continued to thrust into Rung's valve, extending the overload and rising closer to his own.

It burst over him like a tidal wave; inexorable and completely without mercy. Transfluid spilled into the valve around him, quickly wicked away by that odd suction. He’d have to ask Rung about it, assuming he could remember after that mind-blowing overload.

He turned, putting his back to the wall, and slid down to sit on the floor, Rung still planted firmly on his spike.

“Ready to go again, lover?” the orange mech asked cheekily. “I'll do all the work this time.” And he rolled his hips, shifting Megatron’s spike in him.

Megatron just laid his head back against the wall and surrendered to the pleasure.

~oOo~

Megatron turned down the hallway headed for Rung’s office. He knew the therapist was finished with appointments for the day, and hoped to catch him before Rung vanished again. His little lover had been avoiding him. Their night, and the following morning, together had been amazing. He’d never had such a responsive lover, one that accepted his darkness and reveled in his kindness. And immediately after, Rung was nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t answer his comms when Megatron tried calling him, and unless he was on duty, there was no sight of him.

As he approached Rung’s office, it was as Megatron feared; no light shone from beneath the door. He’d missed him again. Turning, Megatron fought back his glower as he tried to figure out where on the ship Rung might be. He refused to let this go. Rung couldn’t hide forever and Megatron wanted answers. Their time together had been exquisite, both words and field showing the lithe mech had enjoyed being as debauched as he. 

Exiting the lift, he heard muffled screams, saw mechs running in that direction and fought not to roll his optics as he walked towards the noise. Megatron expected to break up a fight; on this ship it was just a matter of who and over what trivial thing set them off, or if the fight was ‘for fun’. The snickering should have been his indication to turn and walk away. He could see Whirl’s over-bright optic closer to the door, and curiosity got the better of him. As he stepped closer to the sound, the clashes he thought were from a fight were for different reasons entirely. The screams he thought were of rage, were of... ecstasy? “Ah! Yes! Rung! That’s right, right there! Gimme all of that!”

He turned quickly, headed back the way he’d come when he heard his erstwhile lover’s name. All the while the voice in the back of his mind kept feeding him with thoughts and images. Rung was in there, fragging another mech. And it had to be Siren. He was the only one Megatron knew of capable of being heard through the soundproofing all the habsuites had. Rung was in there with Siren, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And then he wasn’t even lucky enough for his retreat to go unnoticed. “Guess you weren’t mech enough to keep him satisfied after all, huh, Megs? He likes them large and in charge.” The lift doors closed on raucous laughter, Whirl’s laugh the loudest of them all. 

Megatron stopped trying to find Rung. Stopped checking his office hours, stopped looking for him in the halls and as he passed Swerve’s. He couldn’t bear to take the chance of hearing Rung with another. Days turned to weeks, which turned to months and still the question of what had happened to make Rung turn from him plagued him. Through the grapevine, meaning Rodimus gloating at him, Megatron had found out that Rung was, as Rodimus put it, “making up for lost time”, which was Rodimus-code for having several one night stands, each with a different mech.

“It’s like he’s trying to make his way through the crew or something. What do you think, Megs?” The mirth in his voice was far from hidden and there was an evil glint in the younger captain’s optics.

Megatron fought not to scowl. “It’s his business who he interfaces with. What he and I had was nothing special.” And how it hurt him to say that.

“Uh-huh. C’mon, Megs, I know you were doing everything you could to just talk to him a while back. Nothing special, my aft.” Rodimus dug a bit more.

“It’s hardly either of our places to even discuss Rung’s… activities. They don’t interfere with the running of this ship or the duties of any of the mechs on it. Can we get back to the original topic at hand?”

Ultra Magnus looked out from behind his hand. “That would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, Megatron. Please, Rodimus, drop the subject.”

He did, but Megatron knew from the look on his face that it was hardly over.

~oOo~

“Oh, wow. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Blue optics looked up at him from a face still half blissed-out. Rung couldn’t help but preen a little; it wasn’t often that this mech complimented him. Or anyone, really, except himself. “Yes, well, I must get back to my rooms. I have an early appointment tomorrow.” He pulled away from the mech and took out a rag to clean himself up.

“Hey, let me clean up and I’ll walk you back, yeah? I got bridge duty tonight, and you’re on the way to the lift.”

Rung knew he wasn’t, but he let the other do as he pleased. Hopefully he’d get some use out of this frag and the transfluid wouldn’t go to waste as almost all the others’ had. That was not a good sign.

He realised he’d been spoken to when he looked up at the night’s lover and saw him staring. “Pardon me. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was a bit… distracted.”

“Yeah, I tend to have that effect on mecha. I said I’m ready. Are you?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I am. Shall we?”

They left, Rung’s hand on the other’s arm. Why, Rung wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to protest the affection. It made him feel almost wanted.

“Okay, you’re… here, right?” They stopped outside his rooms.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he said with a smile.

“Hey, I might not remember everything, but there are some things you don’t forget.”

“And the location of my quarters is one of those things?”

“Well, yeah. Maybe not so much before, but definitely now. Hit me up if you ever want a round two.”

He couldn’t help himself; an eyebrow raised along with the corner of his mouth and he adjusted his glasses. “I was under the impression that we’d already been through round two. And three.”

“Really? Um, well yeah, of course. I meant to say if you want to go again.”

“Of course.” He punched in the code and turned to bid the mech goodnight. He was swept right off his feet and kissed deeply, then gently set back down.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist. I’ll see you later, Rung.”

“Goodnight, Rodimus.” He watched the captain walk away and closed the door. There was a small tremor in his hand, and he set about making some tea, hoping that would calm it.

He’d just picked up his favourite teacup and was reaching for the kettle when a strong shudder went through him. His hands clenched involuntarily and the teacup shattered all over the countertop. Sharp pain assailed him from the joints of his fingers, and he opened his hand to find small shards stuck there. One by one he pulled them out, energon welling from each cut.

He left the countertop as it was in favour of attending to his hand and made his way to his washrack. His tank was already roiling, and he knew that as good as it had felt, the frag session with Rodimus would wind up going the way of all the others.

He cleaned up his hand and dabbed some nanite gel into the cuts to help them heal and headed back out to the prep station to clean up the mess he’d made. The roiling in his tank only got worse as he swept the shards of teacup into a wastebin. He wondered what he’d done to deserve this building pain every time he interfaced with someone, and he cursed his Host coding for fixating on Megatron so fast and firm.

He really didn’t want to admit that that was the reason for his pain. He didn’t _want_ a Host. It was his bloody _coding_ that had forced that on him, and he didn’t want to force it on another. If only he could get the code to release him, he wouldn’t have to deal with this. Wouldn’t have to worry about ruining someone else’s life with a role they didn’t ask for. Wouldn’t crave them so much that he was willing to interface with everyone else to try to get rid of that craving.

He wanted Megatron so badly, but not as a Host. He wanted him as a partner, a lover, an _equal_ , none of which was part of his previous experience with Hosts. He didn’t want that kind of relationship ever again, and would be very happy to never think on it. But of course, his code wanted a Host, and it wanted Megatron as badly as Rung did. So badly, in fact, that it would reject any form of nutrition he ingested unless it was from its chosen Host.

He felt it coming. Felt the pain building in his abdomen like a fist squeezing down on his tank. And still he couldn’t make it to the washrack in time before the first of many gut-wrenching cramps brought him to his knees. 

He lay there in his berthroom, curled up in a little ball of pain and misery, as he waited for the cramp to pass. When it finally did, he didn't even try to stand. He just got up to his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way into the ‘rack.

His panel popped with the next wave and there was the unfortunately familiar sense of congealed transfluid slithering its way out of his valve to land on the floor with a wet plop. When he was able, he turned the shower on to the hottest setting he could stand and just lay under it. The heat always seemed to help, but not enough. Never enough.

He stayed there all night, wave after wave of pain striking and the transfluid leaking out in great gobs to be broken down by the solvent and washed down the drain. By the time it was over, it was time to head to his office to start the day. He would have loved to get an hour or two of recharge, but he couldn’t cancel his appointments.

He still wasn’t feeling well, and that tremor was back. He managed to hide it well enough, but he was sure at least one of his patients had noticed. He felt nauseous and light-headed, particularly when he stood up, so he remained sitting most of the time. Tea did nothing to help, though he kept a cup filled and occasionally drank from it. It didn’t increase the nausea, but it didn’t calm it, either.

Two days later and the ill feeling still remained. It was getting worse, if anything. The tremor had spread to both hands and he felt woozy even sitting down. It was a miracle he managed to walk down to his office without incident.

Two appointments to go before he could close up shop and return to his quarters. He pushed aside the awful feelings as best he could and greeted Bluestreak with something approximating his normal cheer.

The session went well until mid-sentence, Rung’s optics blacked out and he slumped in his seat. Nothing Bluestreak did would rouse him, so he commed the medibay staff, who came out to get Rung and take him back for diagnosis and observation. Ratchet ran test after test, finally coming up with an answer, but it was one he didn’t like, and he knew Rung would hate it. But he left the mech to rest in peace, keeping an optic out and checking up on him every so often.

It was well into the night when Rung finally woke, coding fully activated, and slid off the medical slab to go in search of his Host.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung is awake and looking for someone or something. But what if he finds isn't what he wanted or expected.

Rung’s comms blared at him for the fourth time. He knew he should answer, knew Ratchet would be angry with him for not -- and, well, for other reasons too -- but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had someplace to be, someone to find and the urgency of it gnawed at him. The object of his obsession wasn’t in Rung’s rooms. He wasn’t at Swerve’s, though Rung had gotten a surprising amount of attention and offers there when he was looking. He wasn’t in the engine room or the medical where he’d woken up. And he wasn’t in his own rooms, though scent markers suggested he’d visited all of those places recently. 

The observation deck was empty as well. Rung heaved a sigh and headed for the last place on his list: the bridge. If the one he desired wasn’t there, he’d have to go room by room, and he was not looking forward to that. There were a lot of rooms (and some too small to be called rooms; more like closets) on the _Lost Light_.

He really hoped Megatron was on the bridge.

*

Megatron fought the urge to throttle his co-captain. Even though Rodimus’ shift was over, he was hanging around, chatting up the bridge crew who were just coming on shift. Which he wouldn’t usually mind so much, but the _topic_ of his chatter was aggravating, to say the least. Exactly _why_ Rodimus thought that comparing notes with Siren and Blaster, in public, on the bridge, on how good of a frag Rung was was a good idea was so far beyond him it might as well be in a different universe.

He knew it was an attempt to get a rise out of him. A very deliberate attempt, in keeping with the way he’d been needling Megatron over the fact that Rung had come to _him_ instead of the former warlord for the past three days. The flame-coloured mech kept sneaking glances at Megatron when he thought he wasn’t paying attention. Rodimus had yet to learn that he was _always_ paying attention.

“Comm from Medical,” Blaster announced.

Before Megatron could acknowledge it, Ratchet’s voice was ringing through the bridge. “Has anyone seen Rung?”

“I saw him at Swerve’s an hour or so ago. Looked like he was looking for something,” Mainframe said.

“Yeah, he was. Dammit, if you see him, escort him back to Medibay. He’s not well.”

“We will watch for him, Ratchet,” Megatron said. A quiet flurry of whispering from the gossiping mechs reached his audials.

“Ah, Ratchet. This... thing… Rung has…”

“Isn’t contagious, you twit.”

The door to the corridor opened quietly. All activity on the bridge ceased for a long moment, and Megatron instantly knew who it was who’d come in.

“Ratchet,” he heard himself saying ridiculously calmly, “we’ve found your wayward patient.” He turned to look at Rung, who looked right back at him with unreadable optics.

“I’ll take him down to Medibay,” Rodimus volunteered. “I’m heading in that general direction, anyway.”

Megatron watched Rung dance easily out of Rodimus’ grip and over to him, saying, “Really, Rodimus, it would be much better if Megatron escorted me. Don’t you think?” The last was directed at Megatron himself and damned if he could think of a reason not to.

“Come on, Rung. I’m off shift. Megatron just came on. I’ll walk you down. We can catch up, yeah?”

“Mm, no. I’d still prefer if Megatron took care of me.”

Blaster snickered, and he could hear Siren trying to hold himself back.

“I don’t care _who_ brings him here, just see that he’s brought here immediately.” Ratchet was sounding irritable.

“Look, Rung, I’m best suited for the job right now. I’ll take you down to Medibay and Ratchet’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“No.” Rung’s voice was hard and cold as ice. “I go with Megatron, or I don’t go at all.”

“Oh, god. Megatron, bring him down here. _Now._ And whatever you do, _don’t_ interface with him!”

Siren lost the battle.

*

His audials were ringing. He’d known Siren was loud, but hadn’t experienced firsthand _how_ loud. An argument with Rodimus, a shift change with Ultra Magnus and half an hour later, he could still hear the echoes of that laugh. 

His annoyance was compounded by the presence of Rodimus in the lift with Rung and himself. And, well, _Rung._

The psychologist smelled incredible, and if Rodimus hadn’t been there, he might easily have thrown Ratchet’s caution to the wind and let himself be convinced by the smaller mech to let himself go and take Rung right there in the lift. As it was, his resolve was crumbling with Rung’s efforts and Rodimus himself wasn’t helping matters any with his comments on what he’d like to do to the orange mech. It certainly didn’t help that small orange fingers kept stroking him anywhere they could reach along his frame. 

“Don’t know why you’re wasting your time trying to turn on a mech that couldn’t make you scream the first time.” Rodimus wrapped his arm around the thin white waist and pulled the smaller mech back against him. “You know I can, and did, and will again, all you gotta do is say the word.” 

Rung gave a smart slap to Rodimus’ hand before he spun out of the possessive grasp. “If I recall correctly it wasn’t I but you, dear captain, who was the more cacophonous of the two of us.” 

“Your memory is faulty. I distinctly remember you screaming for me to keep going. Maybe you should see Ratchet. Oh, wait. You are!”

Rung gave him a disgusted look and returned his attention to Megatron. “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed to ask you to continue if you’d been able to satisfy me.” Rung placed an open mouthed kiss to Megatron’s solar plexus. “There was one night in recent memory that hasn’t left my thought no matter how I tried. One single night that has touched me in a way no other has managed in more millennia that I can count.” Rung nuzzled at red slating along Megatron’s transverse abdominis, wet tongue following slanted edges. “It’s all that’s occupied my thoughts no matter who may have tried to gain my attentions.” Small fingers worked their way under hip skirting, tracing seams and joints. 

Megatron’s massive hands wrapped around Rung’s arms, moving them away from his person. “Ratchet has advised us against touching you; I think it would be advisable for you to offer us the same courtesy.” 

Rung staggered under Megatron’s grasp. His Host was so close, but he was being told he couldn’t _touch_ , that he couldn’t _have_ and it lanced through him like a physical pain. The touch had infused him with pleasure, ratcheted up his passion for his chosen; the words had burned him and ripped his breath away from him. “But, don’t you want me?” 

“Nah, Rung, and you shouldn’t want him. We had a lot of fun together, for more than one night. Stick with me and we can fun a lot more nights.” 

Rung rubbed his arm where Megatron had held it; the grip had been firm but not painful. The words had hurt far more. A dark thought crept forward from the back of his mind. A predatory smile followed the thought, and Rung turned away from the one he wanted. He pulled his glasses from his face, placing them in one of his many compartments. “All right then, Rodimus. Why don’t we show him what he’s missing. Right here, right now.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, Gelfling here with this update... which should have been out a week ago and I forgot to post it. Feel free to direct all screaming at me, unless it's screaming about the awesomeness. Direct all of that to Nerds. XD

Rung shot Megatron a look as he turned and stalked towards the co-captain. Rodimus reached for him as soon as Rung drew close enough, the psychiatrist purring as he settled into the embrace. “You’re always so warm, Rodimus. You feel so wonderful against me.” Rung nuzzled at the flamed chest plate. “What pleasures can I give you, my captain?” 

Rodimus bent to kiss Rung, taking his time and savoring the smaller mech. “Mmm, I’d love to feel your lips wrapped around my spike.”

Rung purred again, allowing his pheromones to float along on his heated ex-vents. “As my captain commands,” he said with a teasing tone and sultry smile. He slowly kissed and licked his way down Rodimus’ body, fingers dancing in seams, teasing out delicious moans and gasps as Rung played the younger mech’s sensor net like a virtuoso. 

Rodimus’s spike was extended and dripping from Rung’s ministrations before the smaller mech even reached it. Rung left no plate untouched, no bio-light unlicked, he knew how to get the best reactions from Rodimus and intended to use them to entice his true target. 

Megatron tried not to watch from under the ridge of his lowered helm as Rung moaned while taking Rodimus into his mouth. He didn’t want to see this. And yet he was riveted; this was Rung, after all, and he had a fixation for the mech that he just couldn’t properly explain. Motion between Rung’s legs drew his attention and after he registered what was happening, tried not to watch a small orange finger sliding in and out as Rung fingered his own valve. First one, then another, until Rung was fisting his own valve. 

His comms crackled to life. ::It’s not the same. I wish it were you. Nothing ever feels like you. I want _you_ , not him, you. I was wrong to avoid you so. Our night together was amazing. I dream of you, feeling you fill me like no other has. I want that again. Please, Megatron, don't make me wait any longer...::

Dark hands clenched, silver plating twitched. Megatron fought to hold on to his anger. Surely Rung had known, surely he knew that Megatron had all but become a laughingstock, teased mercilessly because of some unknown inadequacy. ::No, that won’t be happening again. You made your choice abundantly clear with the depths you took to avoid me.::

Tendrils of Coding lashed at him for hurting his Host; pheromones thickened in the enclosed space. Rung purred again, removing his hand from his stretched valve, holding it open for a moment before cycling it back down slowly through clenching and relaxing. ::Now is not the time for those conversations. Let us share pleasure and enjoy what is being offered. I will answer all your questions while we lay entwined together in my berth.::

Rung could feel the flickering, the crumbling hesitation in Megatron’s field. Rung rubbed at Rodimus’ valve cover drawing a shaking “Primus, yes, Rung,” from their trembling co-captain. When flame red paneling moved aside, Rung circled the dripping valve before sliding his fingers inside. Rodimus’ hands flew out to the sides, smacking to the walls. “Uhn, yes, fuck me, Rung!” 

The effects of the environment were getting to Megatron, despite his iron will. The sounds, Rodimus’ panting, whining, the smell of his charge, lubricant from them both. The display Rung was willingly and willfully making of himself. The begging, the apologizing, the assurances that he was wanted by the mech who called to him in ways he’d not felt since times almost forgotten. ::Are you _sure_ Rung?::

Rung would have smirked, triumphant in his victory, had his mouth not been stretched around Rodimus’ spike. ::Yes Megatron, of you I am definitely sure. Please, let us make up for lost time.::

Megatron stepped up behind Rung, spike exposed and rigid as soon as he released it. ::I am not in the habit of rendezvous such as this. Rodimus has been unpleasant as of late.::

::He’s a poor but convenient substitute for you. Please?:: Rung reached back, seeking some contact with the mech he wanted most, field pressing into the other with _want/need/lust_ when his reach remained empty. ::Please, Megatron. I am desperate for you. He matters little in the scheme of things. It’s _you_ I want.::

Rung’s voice was a siren’s call. The smell of Rung in pleasure permeated the lift. Megatron found Ratchet’s warning and Rodimus’ goading harder to remember. ::This is highly inappropriate.::

::Perhaps, but please take me? Make me yours again?:: It was the offer that undid him. Dark hands gripped orange hips as his thumbs spread Rung’s offered valve open. His thumbs slid in easily stretching Rung to make sure the mech could well and truly take him without pain or further preparation. He might be displeased with the smaller mech’s avoidance of him of late, but that did not mean he would hurt his lover. 

Megatron rubbed his spike against the outer lips of Rung’s valve. Lubricating fluids coated him and enhanced the smaller mech’s enticing smell. ::We _will_ talk soon, as for now, if you truly want me..::

Rung groaned loudly around Rodimus’ spike. ::Yes, please. _Please_ don’t tease me, I need you.::

Megatron lined up the head of his spike with Rung’s valve. He slid in easily thanks to the show Rung had given him while teasing and enticing him. The moan the small mech gave at his entrance had Rodimus swearing in English again. 

Megatron eased himself into Rung slowly. Pleasure at feeling the tight, wet heat stretch around him flooded his field. ::Ah, yes. I have missed this, Megatron.:: Rung’s voice purred across his comms. ::I was so wrong to stay away. You feel so good in me.:: So lost in sensation, neither noticed when the lift slowed and the doors opened. Though a certain voice quickly demanded their attention. 

"Oh for the love of --" Ratchet snatched Rung away from the two mechs in the lift by the collar, prompting a snarl from the orange mech. "Didn't I say to NOT frag him!? And I know you were there, Rodimus, so don't tell me you didn't know."

Rodimus subsided from his protest, pouting.

Rung kept up a litany of hisses and snarls, giving the impression of a very angry kitten.

"You," Ratchet pointed at Rodimus, "go wherever you were headed and don't say a word about any of this. YOU," and he levelled a harsh glare at Megatron, "stow your equipment, follow me, and don't talk."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry for the long time between updates. Life kinda kicked us both in the aft at the same time and we didn't get anything written on this until just this past week. So here's for those of you who might've been wondering if we've gone off and died.

Rodimus followed them for a while until Ratchet pulled a wrench on him, then he turned tail and scurried off. When they got to the Medibay, Ratchet tersely told Megatron to sit on one of the berths and _stay there_ while he dragged Rung off to a quarantine room.

Ratchet slammed Rung up against the wall, not gently, but not as hard as he could, either. “If you don’t stop fighting me, I’m going to have to disable your motor functions,” the medic said, forearm to the psychiatrist’s throat. Rung’s jaw unhinged and partially folded away as he worked his head down and sunk fangs into Ratchet’s arm, letting the venom flow. Ratchet pulled away quickly and Rung lunged for the door.

Ratchet lunged for Rung. There was a brief tussle and a body slam onto the floor and the fight just went out of Rung. Stray lines of coding whispered approval of this mech as a Host, too, but too much of it was focussed on the huge grey mech outside the room to really pay any attention to them.

“If I let you up, are you going to behave?”

Rung demurely nodded. Ratchet heaved himself upright, then offered a hand to Rung. The delicate orange hand slid into the sturdy red one and Ratchet gracefully pulled Rung to his feet. Rung sat himself on the berth while Ratchet fetched the chair. He staggered on his way to it and shook his head. That venom was doing a number on his systems. He felt light-headed and a general nausea. He had to hold onto the chair while he rolled it over to the berth just to keep himself upright. He ungracefully flopped into the seat and said, “If you _ever_ bite me again, I’ll rip those fangs of yours right out of your head.”

“Understood,” Rung said, notes of fear in his tone.

“I heard about your exploits among the crew while you were avoiding Megatron. Why didn’t you just come to me?”

“I…” Rung started, then stopped to compose himself. Pain radiated from his spark outward at being kept from his Host. He wanted – no, _needed_ him. It was killing him slowly to be separated after being so close to having the bond cemented. “I suppose it was to protect myself. I wasn’t aware you knew. And even if I had, how would I have known you would treat me like a normal mech?”

“Rung, that’s bullshit. When have I ever treated you as anything but a so-called ‘normal’ mech? I’m not the type to experiment on your kind, and I resent the assumption that I am. Not everyone is biased against your race, although I will admit that most are, and for ridiculous assumptions and myths.”

Rung looked down at his hands, which were folded primly in his lap. He glanced out into the main Medibay and saw Megatron watching them, then quickly looked back. “How long have you known?” he whispered.

“Since the physical I did on you when you came on board. Same as I did with everyone else. Didn’t see the point in saying anything about it then, but the way you’re reacting to Megatron, I’m going to have to tell him.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Rung, I _have_ to. He has no clue what you’re going through and what you’ve done to him. Would you want someone messing with your ability to choose what you want?”

Rung sighed, weariness sapping his energy. “No. He deserves to know. But Ratchet, it _hurts_. I need him. I was so close to being whole, and now it’s gone and it _hurts_ so very badly.”

Sympathy flashed across Ratchet’s face. “I’m going to have to keep you in here until this compulsion to cement the Host bond goes away. I know you’re only acting this good because you’re away from him and you know I can put you in your place if you try to get to him again.”

“I can’t abandon my patients.”

“You’re not abandoning them, you’re taking a holiday for your health.”

“Is there anything you can do to get me out of here faster?” Rung pleaded.

“I’ll recruit Perceptor and see what can be done. But you have to prepare yourself for the possibility that there’s nothing we can do. You may be stuck here for a very long time.”

~oOo~

Megatron watched the entire exchange through the glass of the quarantine room. That creature in there fighting with Ratchet was not his Rung. He looked like him, sounded like him, but wasn’t him. And then he _bit_ the medic, while Ratchet’s arm was at his throat! There was no way he should have been able to do that. What was this creature masquerading as Rung?

Ratchet subdued the mech fairly swiftly, then pulled him to his feet. Megatron watched the medic stumble as he fetched the chair and fall heavily into it when he’d gotten it where he wanted it. He watched them talk, the mech (he couldn’t think of him as Rung) curling in on himself more and more.

Eventually Ratchet rose, still looking a bit unsteady, and left the quarantine room. He flipped some switches and the walls went opaque. The keypad glowed the red of warning, signalling the room was locked.

The medic slowly made his way over to Megatron and indicated that he should follow. They entered Ratchet’s office and Megatron sat where he was told. Ratchet didn’t sit behind his desk, though. Sympathy and resignation were etched on the medic’s face as he sat in the chair across from Megatron’s. “I’m going to need you to promise me that you’ll cooperate with a full physical and fluid workup panel. I need samples of _all_ of your fluids, and I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“You said what Rung has isn’t contagious. I’m not sure what he has, but that was not Rung.”

“It isn’t technically contagious. But since he’s focussed on you, I have to make sure. Are you feeling well?”

“I feel fine, although rather disgusted with myself for nearly fragging that monster. The question is, are _you_ well?”

“Fragger bit me and hit me with a big dose of venom. I’ll be fine.” Ratchet waved him off. Megatron looked at him sideways, but didn’t push the issue. “Now, are you going to promise me or not?”

“Very well. I will suffer your pokes and prodding.”

“Great. Now, I’m sure you have questions, and I’ll be happy to answer any I can.”

“Where is Rung? And don’t tell me that _thing_ is him.”

“Hate to break it to you, but that’s him. He’s not acting much like himself, though. And that’s where you come in.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s acting the way he is because his coding has fixated on you. Have you felt like you weren’t entirely in control of your actions or feelings?”

“That first night we were together, there was something about him that so intrigued me that I couldn’t help but try to find out what it was. I thought it was lust, but it was stronger than that. I didn’t question it at the time, but I did ponder it many times between then and now. And then again in the lift, he smelled so good, and I couldn’t help but want him.”

“Pheromones.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said pheromones, and I know you know what those are. At first they were just generic pheromones, designed to bring in potential suitors, but after your first frag, they started being produced specifically to affect you. Especially since his coding fixated on you.” Ratchet scratched his jaw. “What happened just before you and he got together?”

“He… was almost raped by Whirl. He’d calmed him down in Swerve’s, then escorted him to his quarters. Ultra Magnus and I followed and stopped him.” His brows drew down. “And before that, I found him in the engine room, talking to the remains of the sparkeater. He asked me then not to use the word ‘monster’ around him. He said it had been used to cause damage to others.”

Ratchet nodded. “He’s had a pretty traumatic life, I’d guess, being what he is. My read of the situation as you describe it is that his coding was triggered by Whirl, then it focussed on you because of your size and the fact that you saved him from Whirl.”

“Ultra Magnus was there, too, and he’s larger than I. Why didn’t ‘the coding’ focus on him instead?” Megatron asked.

Ratchet snorted. “Ultra Magnus is a suit of armour and an identity. Minimus Ambus isn’t going to trigger a Taniwha’s coding.”

Megatron’s chair flew backward as he leapt upright. Rage flashed in his optics and a burning anger settled into his spark. “How dare that creature –”

Ratchet was up in his face, just as angry. “‘That creature’ is Rung, and you’d do well to remember that. He might look a little different in his natural form, but he’s no different at spark. And you’ll take that secret to your grave, or I’ll start letting out a few of my own.” The venom behind the words was dispelled slightly by the wobble the medic gave then.

The anger was still there, but it took second place behind the immediate threat of Ratchet falling on his aft. Dark hands held on to white arms until their owner’s sense of balance was back for the moment. “You need to sit down.”

“And so do you. Mind that temper of yours, Megatron. I’d hate to have to certify you unfit for command.”

“How did he last so long on this ship without anyone realising what he is? How did _I_ not see it?”

“Mostly because we generally see what we want to see. And Rung is old enough to know how and _to_ hide himself. Hardly anyone notices him, do you know that? He’s been around far longer than you or I, and yet nobody knows who he is, apart from the mechs on this ship. The myths surrounding the Taniwha are ridiculous, and only a fool would believe them.” He barked a laugh. “Unfortunately, this ship and the whole of Cybertron are full of fools.”

“They drink the energon of their victims.”

“Wrong. An unbonded Taniwha like Rung can go a long time without eating, and when they do, it’s not energon they go for. They eat transfluid. There’s something in it that they can’t go without.”

“He bit you.”

“That he did.”

“You’re not upset with him?”

“Of course I’m upset with him. I told him I’d yank those fangs of his right out of his pretty little head if he bit me again. I don’t make idle threats.”

“And the venom.”

“Yeah, that’s a pain. It doesn’t hurt, just makes me kind of sick and unbalanced. In smaller doses, it would leave a mech open to suggestion, such as a ‘romantic rendezvous’. Given enough, it can addict a mech to it and the Taniwha it came from. In combination with engex, and with too much of the venom, it can cause a mech to become aggressively amorous after a calm phase, which is what I think may have happened with Whirl.”

“They lay eggs into mecha, which then eat their way out after hatching.”

Ratchet really did try to hold in his laughter, but snorts and gasps escaped anyway. “Okay… okay. That’s both true and very, _very_ false.”

Megatron felt the burn of humiliation in his spark, dousing that of the anger, but he wasn’t going to let it show. “How so?” he asked stiffly.

“They do lay eggs, and they do need mecha like you and me to incubate them. But the eggs are laid by that mech before they do any hatching, and I told you, they eat transfluid, not mecha. There has never been a recorded incident of Taniwha younglings eating their way out of anything.”

“How do you know so much about them?”

“I’ve done my homework. If you know where to look, you can find studies done on the species, the vast majority of which the subject didn’t agree to. I don’t agree with the methods, but the informational value is amazing.”

“Why was he so fixated on me?”

“He actually still is, and will be for quite a while. His coding has latched onto you as its Host, which means if you had completed the frag session I so timely interrupted, you’d be bonded to him.”

“How would that work? There was no way we’d have shared sparks.”

“It’s not a spark bond, and don’t ask me to explain it. It’s complicated and convoluted and I don’t understand it myself. All I know is that you’d be as addicted to him as he is to you.”

“He knows I don’t like my head messed with. Why would he do this to me?”

Ratchet sighed. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t his choice, at least not entirely. A Taniwha’s Host coding is almost like a separate entity within them, and for Rung to go into a Host frenzy, he was fighting himself for a long time.”

“He was –”

“Making his way through the crew. I know. No doubt in an attempt to get his coding to forget about you and go dormant. He was avoiding you for the same reason. Unsuccessfully, I might add.”

“This is all a bit much to take in. I was always under the impression that Taniwha were along the lines of sparkeaters and the like. Monsters to be feared and destroyed, _if_ they existed.”

“That surprises me, coming from you. You never struck me as the superstitious type.”

“I didn’t think I was. I have no experience with monsters such as those. I’d heard the stories and never believed them. Apparently I did so unconsciously.” Megatron ran a hand over his face. “Is it possible to talk to him?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. If you don’t want to be his Host, he can’t see you, hear you, or come into contact with you at all. That means no datapads, either. And I don’t know how long it will take for his coding to go dormant again.” Ratchet rose, gesturing Megatron to follow suit. “Perceptor should be here by now; he’ll be helping me try to devise some way to get Rung back to normal as soon as possible. We’re going to be doing a full-body workup, looking for something that might help that goal.”

“Wonderful.”

“We’ll also be needing a transfluid sample. You can do that yourself, or I can pull a sample for you. Your choice.”

There was a burning in his face that he hoped didn’t actually show. “I can manage on my own.”

“Well, let’s go get started.”

~oOo~

Ratchet and Perceptor were very efficient; running scans, taking fluid samples, poking and prodding as medics were wont to do. Once finished, Perceptor picked up the tray that contained all the samples and scan data and carried it to the lab attached to the medibay to begin his analysis.

Ratchet cleaned up the room of utensils and put them all into a bin to be cleaned. “Now, there are a couple of ways we can collect the transfluid: you can ejaculate into this jar, or you can put this thin, flexible cover on over your spike and go from there. If you opt for the cover, just make sure you tie it shut when you’re done. Leave it on the shelf there and I’ll come ‘round to get it.”

“Understood.” Megatron waited until Ratchet was gone before he moved. The cover seemed the most efficient way of collecting the sample, so he slipped it over his soft spike. He sat back on the berth and touched himself, softly, gently, as a lover would. Primus, who was his last lover before Rung?

Deadlock. The mech he’d sent away on Starscream’s advice, his best bodyguard and as good a lover as he could’ve hoped for. He remembered the way those fangs would scrape at his fluid lines, and his spike stirred. The way he was always silent, yet still emotive. His face in pleasure.

The last time they were together was the night before Deadlock was to leave. They were so passionate that night, their lovemaking wild and furious and slow and sensuous. Deadlock had initiated it, uncharacteristically. He had grabbed hold of Megatron’s wrist and pulled, then practically climbed his frame to get to his face, where he’d received the most passionate kiss Deadlock had ever bestowed upon him. “I understand why you’re sending me away, but I wish I didn’t have to go,” the mech had said, red optics looking at him with resignation. It was then that Megatron had returned the kiss, tongue delving into Deadlock’s mouth to play with his. The dark mech responded eagerly, opening up to him as he did to no one else.

He remembered the feel of Deadlock’s valve; the amazing textures within, the spiralling of the callipers, the way Deadlock could tighten his valve enough that Megatron couldn’t move until he relaxed it again. His hand twisted on his spike, squeezing in time with each stroke of his hand. He gasped at the strength of the sensations. It’d been so long since he’d thought of Deadlock, and here he was, remembering as though it was just yesterday.

He could almost feel Deadlock riding his spike, could see him if he closed his optics. The mech was beautiful, just like Rung. And just like that, it was Rung riding his spike with wild abandon. Teal optics flashed, his mouth open, little pants and moans escaping with each rise and fall of his body. He writhed and begged for more, and there was little Megatron could do but give it to him.

Tightness banded around his hips as he rose toward his overload. He fell backward onto the berth, hips jerking into his hand as it moved faster. How he wanted the mech! He could see how Rung wanted him, too. The psychiatrist licked his lips, giving Megatron a sultry look as he bent low to kiss him. Megatron could almost feel the lips on his and he bowed off the berth as his overload overtook him.


End file.
